Blood, Sweat, and Tears

The following posting will be very long. I'm warning you now, so that those of you who were just hoping for the highlights don't get frustrated with the details. Scroll down towards the end and you can brief yourself, if you have no time.

As I sit here and try my best to recall and relay the exhilaration and immensity of the marathon on Sunday, I'm a little at a loss for what to say. I'll try my best to take you with me on the incredible experience of the past 36 hours, but it's a little daunting.
I guess I'll start at the beginning of the end. As most of you have been following the blog since my training began, you know where I'm coming from and what this past weekend held in store for me. And the first answer to your question is "Yes. It was everything I expected and more than I could have imagined."
I had been nervous about the race a little bit, but not to the point of anxiety. We took off from San Jose on Saturday morning, a handful of Bay Area runners from the TNT team. We were a little groggy, a little snuffly, but in generally good spirits. We boarded the plane and taxied forever; the flight was scheduled to leave around 8:30, but we didn't take off until at least half past nine. When we finally landed in Portland, we stretched out; most of us had woken up by then, and we proceeded to the hotel with our luggage on a big old carrier bus. Arriving around 1pm, we checked-in and went out in search of food. This was my first look at Portland, and it was a charming city, I must admit. This time of year hints at fall foliage, and the weather is perfect "running weather" - you can wear a sweater if you're not running, but you won't cool off if you run in a light tee and shorts; there's a little breeze every now and then that bushes past, and the air is dry with the slightest hint of moisture.

We came across the registration expo at the nearby Hilton Hotel and stopped in to pick up our race packets, including our "bib" (the number you wear on your shirt) and our chips (a tiny device worn on the shoe that contains a sensor; you cross checkpoints along the race and your time is recorded via your chip). There were also a lot of companies with promotional flyers and handouts; I liked the honey sticks the best. We picked up our finisher's shirt (the air was rife with irony) and then headed over to get some lunch (a quesadilla with some rice). I went back at 3pm to hear Jeff Galloway speak, and managed to have him sign my race bib. It was wonderful to meet him in person; I read through his book "Marathon!" and had trained with the 'run-walk' program he outlines. Hearing him remind the audience about pacing, hydration, and other little details for race day calmed me immensely.

That evening, we went down to the ballroom for a TNT carb load. There were teams from Washington, Alaska, Oregon, New Mexico, and California. The room was filled with teammates who had traveled far and near, has raised over $95,000 collectively, and ranged from veteran runners to newbies. A lady named Terri shared her story about her daughter, Emily, who was diagnosed with myeloma at a very young age; they lost her after only six years of her life, and after sharing some tearful memories, they thanked everyone in the room for their efforts. Terri said to us, "You'll never know how much your fundraising touches other people's lives." It was a very poignant moment, and I was overwhelmed by the emotional response from the crowd.
After dinner, our mentors also passed along a few pages of well-wishes from all our honorees; they were generous in their thanks and well wishes, and it made me remember why I was truly running this marathon.

Most coaches will tout the benefits of mental preparation for an event such as a marathon, and I can vouch in favor of this training detail. I was lucky to have participated in running events previously and even more lucky that I was running for a cause other than myself; I felt prepared for what Sunday morning would bring in terms of pre-race preparations. When I got to the starting line on Sunday morning, I felt very Zen-like: I knew to use the port-o-johns long before the lines formed, to keep still and not waste energy before crossing the start line, and to stretch out a little and stay calm. I had a peanut butter-banana-honey-Wonder Bread sandwich about 45 minutes before we started running, and enough water to get me going for the first few miles. I thought about all the honorees and the folks I was running for, and that took a lot of stress out of the equation. Knowing how the first hour before the race would happen helped me concentrate on what would happen during the race. I had imagined how the race would go, and because of that I was able to hold back for the first 10 miles of the race, managed to climb the hill at 16, and had enough energy left over to complete the 6.2 miles down to the finish....

I slept rather well the night before, considering the advice my father gave me. In fact, I passed out about 9:30pm and didn't wake up until 5:15 the next morning. I did have a weird dream about wanting to get single bills in exchange for my $10 bill; no one would give me the change I wanted. It wasn't really an anxiety dream per se, but unsettling nonetheless.

We went down to the starting line around 6am, and I had decked myself out in the 10-gallon plastic garbage bag my father recommended I bring. Unfortunately, 10 gallons only covers the top half of your body. The other runners were sporting large 45-gallon bags that hung down to at least their knees, and had ample room for movement. I looked like tightly packed sushi in comparison; I only poked a hole for my head, preferring to keep my arms close to my body for warmth inside the sack. Waddling around for the half hour before the race with my red bandanna and saran-wrap-esque cover up provided some much needed pre-race entertainment for my peers. (It was a relief to let my arms out towards the race start, and I didn't shed the bag until after mile 1, at which time I was sufficiently warm.)

Though we were close to the race start line, the gun went off at 7 and I didn't actually cross the start line until around 7:20. We were situated near the 6-hour pace group, and I struggled to hold myself back at the beginning, knowing that if I wanted to finish in under 5:30:00, I needed to do some serious catch-up. Oddly enough, despite all the conservative running I managed in the first 10 miles, I caught up to the 5:30-pace group after mile 4. It was a joyous moment, let me tell you.

Now, I'll just give you the mile-by-mile highlights, because let's face it, writing about running to that extent is rather inane at this point. I was wearing my purple TNT singlet, my comfy somewhat seamless running capris, my new Mizunos, and a fuel belt stuffed with shot blocks, GU, an Alka-Seltzer tablet (sodium replenishment) and a bit of water...


HIGHLIGHTS:
Mile 1: The drum line - some hot guys with drums and a rad beat...what a thrill! They showed up again at Mile 7, I could have run easy with them the whole way...
Mile 2: Shedding the plastic 10-gallon bag!
Mile 3: First (of many) water station and some Shot Blocks
Mile 4: Gradual downhill! I'm pretty sure this helped me catch up to the 5:30 group. By this point, the sweat starts to accumulate.
Mile 5: Running strong, heading further out of the city.
Mile 6: Realizing there are 20 more miles to go, and reminding myself not to push it, although I'm ready to just let fly on some of these intervals. Had some more Shot Blocks
Mile 7: for Joan.
Mile 8: for Kristi.
Mile 9: for Mary.
Mile 10: for Laurette.
Mile 11: for Jim.
Mile 12: for Laurette H. Shot Block time again.
Mile 13: for Donna.
Mile 14: for the Honorees.
Mile 15: Realizing that a half marathon might just be my event. Had some GU with caffeine in anticipation of the bridge hill - this got my legs kicking!
Mile 16: Mentally battling the hill to the St. John's Bridge, keeping up an awesome pace, controlled breath, and passing people while climbing it
Mile 17: Conquering the hill. I got a little teary on the bridge (the view was GORGEOUS) but realized I couldn't run and cry at the same time, so I held back. Besides, who cries in the middle of the marathon!?
Mile 18: Realizing we ran 18 miles out of the city into the suburbs. People are cheering from their porches and one dude is playing the theme song from "Chariots of Fire" on his boom box as we round the corner. Shot Blocks to ward off the tingly sensation in my body that signals I'm running low on fuel.
Mile 19: Alka-Seltzer break time. I mix a tablet in with the remainder of my water and I swear my body is refreshed in under 2 minutes. Or perhaps that's the power of placebo drug use. Sucking out the remaining salt water from my thermos, I cut my upper lip on the cap and taste a little bit of blood.
Mile 20: PAIN. Quads start to get sore, feet are hurting after 20 miles of pavement; the arms are moving, but the legs are having a hard time keeping up.
Mile 21: The Longest Mile Ever. Have some GU with double caffeine in anticipation of the last four miles.
Mile 22: The Longest Mile Ever.
Mile 23: The "course access" cyclist was rumored to be hit by a train and there were ambulances everywhere before the Steel Bridge. They redirected us up to the sidewalk. I think they saved the cyclist. At least, there was no one under the train.
Mile 24: Last taste of Shot Blocks, the tummy's feeling a little funny. I only have 2.2 more miles to go, and despite wanting to push through them, I still have to maintain the walk-run pacing. The transition from running to walking to running is rather uncomfortable. At this point, my clothes are drenched in sweat and my brain is part mush, and my body is on auto-pilot.
Mile 25: Back in the city, and it starts to sprinkle. My brain is complete mush. I want to stop running. My body is so exhausted, all I can think is "ice bath, ice bath, ice bath". People are cheering as we run past, and one cute guy on the corner calls out my name - I was completely discombobulated, I think I glared at him.
Mile 26: Rounding the corner of 3rd and Salmon, I put everything I've got into the last 0.2 mileage to the finish. I feel like puking, but I cross the finish running hard, and in good form. I even passed a few runners. A much needed space blanket is handed to me, along with my medal, a rose, and a tree sapling. I get weepy again after realizing I've just finished a marathon...but I don't have the energy to have a good cry! Someone tries to hand me a flyer for the Cinco de Mayo marathon for next year, but I can't even register why he's doing this. Of all the times to get you to sign up for another marathon...

And then I hobbled back to my hotel room, took that sought-after ice bath, took an hour-long nap, woke up to eat the most delicious hamburger I've ever had in my life (though I've been told anything you eat right after the marathon is the most delicious food you'll ever have), hobbled back to the hotel, slept for another hour, hobbled to the elevator and went down for dinner, had the most delicious garlic mashed potatoes, and then had a quick bout of dance fever. I danced (yes, it was quite a feat, I have video proof) for about two minutes near our dinner table to the "YMCA" and then realized that the only dance move I couldn't physically manage was the running man. How terribly ironic.
I had to leave the victory dinner early in order to catch my flight back home, and had a seizure when I found out they booked the wrong departure date and I was put on standby until the literal last minute before take-off. I mean, I had just completed a marathon: I couldn't handle any more obstacles that day. Luckily, Michael Partridge didn't show up for his booking, so I got seated in 10E and conked out on the 2-hour flight home. Mom picked me up from the airport, and Bandit was in the car, wagging his tail against my head for the whole ride home. I was truly, honestly exhausted, and I had just enough time to sleep that night before having to hobble into work at 6:30am for a live video conference kickoff to New Orleans from the Cancer Center. The soreness, though!! Rest and recuperation took on a whole new meaning for me on Monday. I managed to stand around in heels (granted, I couldn't feel my feet) for an hour or two during the video feed, but that took some effort. After the event however, I was sent home (thank God!) with orders to rest and rehydrate. All in all, a whirlwind of activity and barely any downtime to percolate what had just commenced only 12 hours previous.

And so there you have it. The whole kit and caboodle. Thanks for reading, those of you who made it to this point! And a huge, immense thank-you to everyone who contributed to this experience. I surpassed my fundraising goal, and thanks to you, have successfully completed my first (of perhaps many) marathons. A tremendous accomplishment, and I've been lucky enough to share it with all of you too!!

As for what's next: I have to work out the soreness from Sunday (once I can manage stairs again, I'll be a happy gal) and we have some wrap-up events for the team over the next few weeks. Some of the team members are competing in the Nike marathon in San Francisco in two weeks, so we'll be out there to cheer them on and run them in to the finish line. I'm excited for them, and even more happy to know that I'll be able to provide them with the well-needed encouragement along the last few miles. After that, I may sign up for a half-marathon...we'll see.

Until then, happy running, Marathon Fans.